On the Danger of Impulse Buys
by Mostly Harmless III
Summary: Laguna misses Squall. A lot. The toy he buys to keep him company while Squall is away doesn't quite FIT the bill. Ahem. Can connect to the "Domestic" story line, but can also stand alone. Incest, AU, OOC, PWP smut, not beta-read.


Title: On the Dangers of Impulse Buys  
>Author: Renaissance Makoto (harmless_one, Mostly Harmless III)<br>Fandom: FF8  
>Pairing: SquallLaguna  
>Rating: NC-17<br>Summary: Laguna misses Squall. The little toy he buys to keep him company doesn't quite fit the bill. Ahem.  
>Warning: Incest, AU, PWP smut, OOC, adult situations and language. Did I mention INCEST? Not beta-read. I don't have a beta. Where does one buy one?<p>

Notes: Firstly, this has been rotting on my hard drive for two years. Enjoy. Secondly, I consider this a one-shot that may or may not connect to the "Domestic" storyline. It seems to fit in that universe by virtue of being pointless smut, but is posted separately because it doesn't contain raunchy sex centered around a particular piece of furniture. See, we incest smut fanfiction writers are thoughtful, in our own way. By all means, please go read "Domestic" for more pointless sex between father and son. Lastly, flames used to make me sad, now they make me laugh for many reasons. Chief among them is because it means that the author of the flame had to READ the story first to be disgusted by it. As a WRITER who posts my work for FREE in hopes that people will read it, I WIN regardless. Please, flame away. I need a good laugh.

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><p>On the Dangers of Impulse Buys<p>

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><p>He'd bought it on a whim, incognito with dark glasses and a ball cap. It had looked so cute in the store. Innocent even. It was only about four inches long, tapered at the top and thick at the bottom with a nice grip at the end so he didn't have to worry about some kind of freak accident. It was as close to flesh-colored as he could get. Some of the others on the shelf had been purple or neon green and that just scared Laguna.<p>

He'd left it hidden in the closet for months until, one day, he remembered it and dragged it out.

He told himself he had an excuse: Squall wouldn't be back from a work-related trip for another two days and he missed him.

Okay, he was really horny, but still, the two were one and the same.

He undressed entirely, even throwing off his socks, and then flopped onto his back on the bed. He'd washed the dildo earlier and it was already on the bed, looking harmless and small. Laguna snatched it up and made a hum in his throat. He popped the head in his mouth. Small, easy to take.

He sucked on it and couldn't help but to compare it to Squall. Laguna had to wonder whose cock this thing was modeled after. It was so easy to suck on, not big enough to ever gag him. Not like Squall whose length and thickness deprived him of air, made him have to swallow again and again and _feel_ the head ramming down his throat. Any man with a cock as small as this dildo would be easy to please, Laguna decided and sucked on it more, turning himself on with the exercise. He liked sucking cock, had worked hard to get good at it to please Squall. He swirled his tongue over the plastic head and moaned a little. It wasn't like sucking Squall who was huge in his mouth and also a demanding lover. And that was one of the things Laguna loved, that Squall wanted all his attention when they fucked and that he had the power to control him.

He was dominant, forceful. Hungry.

Laguna was suddenly even harder than before. Yeah, he liked sucking cock.

He was ready to take it to the next level. He popped the dildo out of his mouth and set it aside. Then he lubed up his fingers and twisted around to get them in his hole. It was only good with his own fingers whereas Squall could make it great. Actually, Squall could make him come just with his fingers.

But he couldn't complain since beggars couldn't be choosy. Without Squall around, his own fingers would have to do. It wasn't bad: he was turned on. He closed his eyes and imagined Squall above him, lean and muscled, that intense expression as he pushed his way into Laguna's hungry hole. Sometimes he tortured Laguna, nice and slow with how he entered him. Other times, Squall gave away how badly he needed to fill Laguna with his haste, his speed, his force when he shoved inside him, crammed Laguna's hole full of cock in one mighty push.

Laguna moaned, twisted. "Squall," he said, couldn't stop it even if he'd wanted to. "I love how you fuck me."

He was fully hard now and his own thin fingers were twisting around easily inside his opening. He was beginning to sweat and his wrist was a little sore, but it was so good imagining that his fingers were Squall's.

He freed his hand from beneath him and once again lifted the short, stubby dildo.

"Not like Squall's at all," he panted. There had been a dildo on the wall so close in size and thickness to Squall's that he had almost bought it, but it had felt wrong, somehow, to buy a substitute. Instead, he'd bought this little thing, the one the least like Squall's in the whole store.

He wanted to be filled. Hard.

He slicked up the toy, struggled to get his arms around and low to line the head of this fake cock up with his dripping hole. He started pushing in. The narrow tip was misleading because the fat end of it stretched his ass wider than he would have thought, and then when he finally pushed the thing through the tight ring of muscle, he had to admit it was almost as thick as Squall's cock.

"Fuck," he cried and tried to push that thickness in further only to realize that it was in all the way, as deep as it could go.

Not deep enough. He'd grown too used to how deep Squall could fuck him and now to have similar thickness with not enough penetration…

"No...I need…more…Squall, fuck me…"

It all went frantic then. Back hard against the bed, he jerked his ass into the air and then twitched trying to get the plug as deep as Squall could go.

He was painfully hard, leaking even, but it wasn't enough to come.

He tried rolling onto his stomach, but that seemed like cheating since his erection slid against the sheet. He wanted his orgasm the way Squall could give it to him, without touching his dick, just from having that delicious thrusting pressure in his ass. He came up on his hands and knees, rolling his body into the dildo.

"Squall, Squall," he chanted. Sweat dripped off the tips of his hair; and his face was flushed, hot; and his ass felt sore now from trying to make the tiny dildo fill him the way his son's impressive cock could.

"Need you…Squall, nng…it's not enough. Squall!"

He knew he had to look like a fish, writhing about as he was. And it was at the most extreme of his contortions that he heard it.

"Ahem."

He froze with his body arched and his fingers digging chasms into the mattress.

Slowly, he turned his head to see Squall in the doorway, arms crossed across his uniformed chest. A single brow was in the air but the rest of his face was blank. And, of course, his son was back early. And Laguna had been so loud he hadn't heard the door.

Laguna swallowed, took a deep breath and said, "This…isn't what it looks like."

The eyebrow went higher.

"Okay, okay, it is what it looks like. I'm sorry. I missed you."

And Laguna had to wonder if Squall had heard him crying out his name, begging for him. Squall had to think he was a desperate idiot, Laguna decided. His son was probably too practical to fantasize when he got off.

After several pregnant moments where Laguna could _feel_ his own cock wilting with embarrassment, he sighed. "Just give me a minute of privacy and…I'll go start dinner. Just…let me live this down, okay?"

Squall still said nothing, so, red-faced and humiliated, Laguna reached around behind himself, grasped that convenient end firmly and prepared to pull.

Then he froze.

"Um…privacy…?" he said with an expectant look at Squall.

Squall who wasn't leaving.

"I didn't tell you to stop," Squall said softly.

Laguna felt something like a punch to the gut, but he couldn't name what it was just yet.

"Wha?" he asked, fingers flexing around the handle of the terrible, awful dildo almost convulsively.

"I didn't tell you to stop," Squall repeated. And then he backed up so that he was leaning against the doorframe. He settled against it with those arms across his broad chest and looked hard at Laguna, barely blinking.

Laguna swallowed. His wilting cock was starting to un-wilt and he'd never been so embarrassed in his life and that was saying something, considering.

Squall's eyes narrowed. It was clear they were focused on that sensitive part of him, studying the pucker stretched by the plug and the hand holding the wide end.

"Twist," he said in _that _voice, the one that commanded armies.

Laguna didn't hesitate. One hard twist later and he whimpered.

"Does it feel good?" Squall asked. There was a dangerous edge to his voice.

"Um…sorta...?" Laguna managed between a few panting breaths.

His arm was shaking a little, holding the dildo inside him at such an odd angle. Even still, he knew better than to remove his hand from the end of the plug. It was torturing him, but Squall hadn't told him to stop. It was his fetish, pleasing Squall. Laguna needed Squall to tell him what to do, and they both got off on it.

"Do it again," Squall said.

Laguna did, with more effort this time and the sensation that shot up his body made his eyes roll back in his head. Having Squall watch definitely improved the feel of the dildo inside him, but nothing could make it as good as the fuck he deeply needed.

Arched as it was, Laguna felt like his back was about to snap. His arm started to tingle wrapped around behind him and his throat was raw from gasping, moaning, shouting out. It still wasn't enough.

It might be easier, he realized, on his back. He rolled, spread his legs and slid his hand down between them.

Squall made some odd, choked sound that Laguna didn't understand, then hissed, "Yeah. Just like that. Again."

Laguna couldn't categorize the noise he made, something like a whine and a sob. The new angle was easier, but worse. Now it brushed against his prostate like a finger. A gentle finger. A very gentle finger.

And Squall's voice was fueling the fire. It made him feel like Squall was in charge of everything in the room—from the butt plug driving him crazy to the stiff and heavy erection bobbing up and down against his sweaty stomach.

"Again," Squall said in a voice that was darker, deeper, painted in shades of lust.

Laguna let out a frustrated, needy groan and flopped. He was exhausted, hard, and stretched wide around a plastic toy that wasn't giving him what he needed.

Squall's smoky voice crashed through his haze. "What's the matter?"

"It's…not enough. I…I made a mistake. I thought I could…come like this, but I can't."

"But your hole is so stretched," Squall argued. "You like it like that. Why can't you come?"

"It's too short. Not as thick as you. I can't…I need you to fill me up…you're so…nnng…long, thick…so hard. I can't—"

"Oh, but you're going to Laguna. You're going to come just like this."

Embarrassment made Laguna reach to his cock. He got a good grip, one stroke, two, and then had to stop when Squall commanded, "Don't touch yourself."

Obedience had his hand falling away, even as dismay made him cry out, "Squall! Please…I told you…I can't finish like this." He was burning up, hot and sweaty and horny. And he was desperate now, with Squall so close but not touching him. He thought he might pass out.

"You can," Squall growled. "You will. You're going to learn your lesson."

Squall started walking, a dangerous jungle-cat stride. He stopped beside the bed and loomed over Laguna.

"Fuck yourself," he growled.

Tears of desperation were streaming down Laguna's face. His hand was cramping, but he still got hold of the base of the plug. He pulled it out, his hole stretching around the wide end, then stabbed it back in.

All he could do was curse. The motion stretched the ring of muscle wide, but the shape of the plug made it a short, painful stretch instead of the steady building pain that blurred into pleasure with the smooth slide of Squall's cock.

Laguna decided not to do that again. Instead, he gave it a few twists which felt rather good, but the sensations they caused still weren't right, still weren't what he craved.

"I said _fuck_ yourself," Squall ground out.

Annnnddd back to the stabbing in and out, Laguna thought. It wasn't so coherent or clear since his brain had turned to jelly, but it was in there somewhere. In, out, in, out, hard. He jerked the dildo in and out of his body and felt his lust, his desperation shift into overdrive. The edge was too far away and he needed to come more than he'd needed anything ever. The wet, squelching noises the dildo made were counterpoint to the grunts Laguna made that were half pain, half pleasure.

This couldn't go on. Cunning made him try for a different tactic. He bit his lip, twisted his body prettily, posing. He pushed his budded nipples into the air, showed off his body like it was a feast or a prize.

"Squall, I'm so stretched. I'm so wet. Fuck me."

Squall's eyes sparked. "No."

Laguna licked his lips, dropped his eyes from Squall's unreadable face to the obvious bulge in his son's pants.

"You're hard. Come on. It'll be so good…"

"No, Laguna. Fuck yourself. I'm going to watch you get yourself off."

"Please?"

"No."

Laguna whimpered. He took a few steadying breaths. He had no idea how he was going to do this. He was in a strange place: turned on like crazy, but miles away from coming. He rolled to his side wondering if that might help. It did nothing.

He rolled to his other side.

Nothing.

Finally he flopped back to his back. With a resigned sigh, he arched up a little, crossed his legs at the ankle and _squeezed_ down on the plug. His eyes slammed shut.

"Nnngh," he said and that was an interesting sensation. He lowered his hips, pushed back up again, fucked his cock into empty air. He squeezed when his body was arched to the limit.

"Gah…nnng," was the surprised sound that came from deep in his throat. The dildo wasn't deep enough, wasn't quite thick enough, but bearing down on it hit all kinds of interesting places inside him, the arch of his body made him feel like he was getting fucked after all.

He adjusted, pushed his shoulders more firmly into the bed, got a good grip on the covers and let go. His hips went up, down, up, down as fast as he could make them. Sweat poured off his body like waterfalls, the bed squeaked and rattled. All he could do was toss his head from side to side and make needy, mostly unsatisfied noises. They were so desperate sounding that they cranked up his desire another notch, hearing himself beg. His mind went a little mad. He couldn't stop himself from babbling.

"Squall, Squall, I love you, nnggg, ah, ah, ah! Fuck me, Squall, ah! Nng, I need you. It's so good when you fuck me. I love how you fuck me. Love your cock, I love it. I wanna suck you off, wanna drink your cum. God, yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Squall!"

His cock was bobbing against his stomach, his shoulders were cramping from bunching beneath him, his thighs were like gelatin and his back ached. The painful burn between his legs was nothing like what Squall's cock could do, but it was worse somehow because he had to work so hard, squeeze so hard to feel anything close to what he needed.

At the edge of his vision, flashes of white flickered. He bit his lip, chased it.

Bowed as high as he could go, he held it, squeezed, squeezed, squeezed and finally, his cock gave in. His balls drew up and he weakly dribbled out his hard earned orgasm. He fell hard to the bed, groaning.

He felt absolutely wasted. It was all at once an intense orgasm, and kind of underwhelming. He had no idea how to categorize it, but he had never worked so hard to get off before in his entire life.

He couldn't catch his breath. He just wanted to roll over and sleep, but when he tried, firm hands held him down. He groaned again and opened his eyes. Squall's face was a mask of arousal. His cheeks were red; his pupils had taken over the gray of his eyes.

Unblinkingly, he put his big hands between Laguna's legs. He twisted and tugged the plug out and it hurt the tired muscles inside him enough that Laguna hissed.

Squall tossed it to the side and it landed heavily on the ground somewhere. Laguna didn't care if he never saw it again.

"And?" Squall asked. "Did we learn anything?"

Laguna's eyelids fluttered. He couldn't believe Squall was trying to make him think at a time like this.

He moaned pitifully in response.

Squall shook his shoulders. "Come on. Did you learn your lesson?"

Laguna mustered up some alertness and tried to form coherent sentences. "Yes. I learned…" he imagined that Squall was looking for a particular answer, but he couldn't imagine what it was. Instead, he said the first thing that came to his mouth, which was: "I learned that…next time you leave me alone and undersexed, I'll buy something bigger." He didn't seem to notice Squall's eyes narrow in anger.

Laguna continued on, oblivious. "If I bought something about the same size as your cock, I wouldn't have this problem. Something that wiggled or vibrated or something. It wouldn't be _quite _the same, but at least it would have the right, how do you say? Girth? Yes. I need…girth. And I need something _long_. That little thing didn't reach where I needed _at all_. So…I need to go shopping for something with the right dimensions. Your dimensions. What are you anyway, eight by five? Nine by six? I think that's closer to what I need…"

Squall growled. He stopped Laguna from talking by catching at his jaw and placing his thumb on his lower lip. He pulled it down, opening Laguna's mouth. With a little more pressure, he opened it wider.

"Stay just like that."

Laguna nodded, mouth and eyes wide. Squall stood, shucked his pants and boxers, and came back to Laguna's side. He was so very naked like this with just his uniform shirt on and nothing covering his legs or manhood. It was a heavy, dark rod between his legs, thick and strong and ready to claim Laguna's mouth. Laguna looked at the object of his affection heavy where it jutted proudly between Squall's legs.

Nine by six was an underestimation, he realized.

Then Squall straddled his chest. The smell of his arousal, his maleness hit Laguna and made him moan. Squall took the time to rub the head of his cock over Laguna's cheek, trailing it to his wide, open mouth.

"You said you want to suck me?"

"Mmm…yes." Laguna tried to catch the tip of Squall's meat with his tongue. "God yes."

"So suck me."

Laguna's eyes crossed, watching Squall hungrily. Seeing Squall's cock again reminded him of what a fool he'd been. No butt plug could match it. Laguna settled back again, opened his mouth wider. Squall's hard prick pushed into his mouth and he took a ragged breath through his nose, readied his throat for the constriction that was about to come.

He made a strained, hungry noise when Squall pushed in deeper, harder.

He was too tired to care that he was drooling, too tired to work very hard at this. He shifted a little, angling his head just right in invitation. He stared into Squall's eyes, hoped the message got through.

_Fuck my mouth_.

Squall pulled out and slammed back in and Laguna thrilled. Oh, yes, Squall understood.

His son braced his hands on the headboard and thrust in, shaking the bed in all new ways.

He got a good rhythm going and Laguna settled into it, minded his teeth and swallowed whenever he could. Above him, Squall began to talk.

"The next time you want my cock…you _wait _for it."

Laguna wanted to roll his eyes, but it was hard to make his facial muscles do anything at the moment. All his effort was dedicated to taking Squall's cock in the mouth, no easy task. Ten by seven? he wondered and tried to breathe.

Squall's orgasm seemed to shock even him. He slammed in and came down Laguna's throat. Laguna barely managed to swallow it all, feeling like he wanted to gag and cough, but couldn't. The last of it went down and Squall eased back, leaving Laguna to suck lazily at the head of his cock. He got his hands around the base and squeezed, milking the last of the creamy white from the slit. He caught the final bead on his tongue, stretched it out, giving Squall a little show as he slurped it up, savored it.

He made appreciative little noises and then took the cock back in his mouth, like he couldn't be without it. Squall watched him play the whore beneath him. His eyes were spiked through with desire, possible anger, something like desperation.

Laguna let his cock go with a wet pop and dropped his head back to the bed. "God," he said and smiled.

Squall moved to his side and settled against the sweaty sheets beside him.

"Mmm," he said meaninglessly, just to be saying something it seemed.

"Well, that was different," Laguna said after a moment of silence. His throat was so damaged he sounded like a chain smoker. His words came out in a low, sexy, scratch of a whisper.

"Mmm," Squall said again.

"Are you really going to make me wait for you every time I need to fuck?"

"Yes."

Laguna rolled to his side, looked down at Squall. He smiled again. Squall returned his kiss, open mouthed and messy. If he minded his own taste on Laguna's lips, he didn't complain.

"Good," Laguna said, pulling back. "I've learned my lesson," he proclaimed. "Nothing compares to the way you fuck me. It's official. Your cock is worth the wait."

He fell asleep, cradled against Squall's chest. He didn't feel Squall kiss the top of his head, didn't hear him whisper, "_You're_ worth the wait, Laguna."

~End~


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